


Plié

by Therapeutic_Steter



Series: Prompt Fics [25]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ballet Dancer Peter Hale, College Student Stiles, Embarrassed Stiles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 21:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12734301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Therapeutic_Steter/pseuds/Therapeutic_Steter
Summary: anonymous  asked: Peter is a professional ballett-dancer and Stiles is his not so secretly admirer





	Plié

Stiles couldn’t help but stare in awe as Peter performed another perfect leap, seamlessly moving to catch the ballerina who seemed to flow into his arms and he lifted her in a perfect spin. Stiles had seen this ballet three times because of the man alone and even now he couldn’t look away. He was enchanting, every move as smooth and effortless as the next. Stiles would barely blink for fear of missing anything.

Stiles cheered when the curtain closed, clapping until his hands stung when the dancers came out to bow. Peter Hale was absolutely beautiful and Stiles wished he had to nerve to walk forward during the meet and greet and tell the man just how much he admired him. He couldn’t though, quickly collecting his things as the theatre’s lights came on and scurrying away. His heart was nearly leaping out of his chest in anxiety at the very idea of speaking to the man.

Stiles stood outside, shuffling awkwardly and cursing himself for chickening out again. He glanced back to the doors, wishing he could work up the nerve to actually stay to talk with the man. Just to tell him how amazing he was, how absolutely flawless his dance was. Stiles couldn’t imagine how many hours of practice that man had to put in to make it all look that flawless. And then there was his arms, his chest, his face, his _everything_ —

Stiles covered his face, feeling the heat through his fingers. God, he was so embarrassed. He needed to just go home, forget his utter humiliation until next week when he’d be back for the opening night of The Firebird where Peter would be playing the lead and Stiles had already purchased advanced seating.

He had a problem.

…

Stiles could barely breathe as Peter leapt across the stage, ‘dueling’ the other ballerino playing the part as Koschei versus Peter’s Prince Ivan. Stiles gasped as the other dancer feinted, twirling marvelously, and Peter ‘parried’ his attack and went into a flawless spin. Stiles watched in fascination, as captivated as usual when Peter was on the stage. The man was absolutely striking.

When the final number came to a close, Stiles was almost panting, having held his breath for Peter’s final series of magnificent leaps and turns. Even with the other dancers on stage, Stiles could never seem to look away from Peter for a second. When the lights came on after their final bow, Stiles was still clapping, smiling. He startled with the lights though, rushing to pack up his things and get out before the front was overrun by people wishing to speak with the dancers.

_Oh god, there he is_ , Stiles thought in a panic. Peter was practically prowling down the aisle, looking bright-eyed and undeniably breathtaking with the flush from the exertion. Stiles ducked his head when he met the man’s eyes, ashamed to have been caught staring. He quickly grabbed his bag and turned to rush out the building, heart racing. _He saw me_ , Stiles thought, even though the idea of Peter noticing him was ridiculous. The man probably hadn’t given him a second thought.

Stiles sighed despondently, kicking at the sidewalk and walking in the vague direction of his apartment. Peter didn’t have another show for a month and a half; maybe he should consider going to the showing of The Firebird tomorrow as well?

“Wait!”

Stiles paused without thought, turning around to see who the person was talking to. His eyes bugged when he saw Peter Hale jogging down the sidewalk. He was wearing a simple v-neck and some sweats, and his hair looked like he hadn’t styled it but it made Stiles want to run his fingers through it all the more.

“Hey,” Peter said as he caught up, smirking. “You’re a quick one.”

“Um,” Stiles said, face rapidly heating as he was stared with wide eyes. He quickly snapped his mouth shut, hoping he hadn’t drooled of something equally embarrassing. Peter’s smirk grew.

“I’m Peter,” he introduced, “but I think you may know that.” He winked, and Stiles’ brain imploded.

“Uh,” Stiles said, mind on overload.

“You are…?” Peter asked, raising a brow.

“Stiles,” Stiles blurted, blushing even darker. He was sure his face was tomato red at this point. “I’m Stiles. Which is a nickname, obviously, but I’d never force anyone to try and say my real name. I can only really say my real name, like, once in a blue moon, so how could I possibly expect strangers to say it? My parents were…very…cruel…” Stiles trailed off, shuffling awkwardly and shoving his hands into his pockets, wishing he could slap himself.

Peter chuckled lightly. “Well, Stiles,” he practically purred his name and Stiles bit his lip. “I’m glad I finally caught up with you. I’ve been trying to catch you for the last few shows.”

_Oh god._ “O-oh,” Stiles stuttered. “Have you? I..I didn’t even notice. Sorry.”

“I just couldn’t help but notice you’ve been a lot of shows but you never stay for the meet and greets,” Peter explained. “You seem to be quite the balletomane.”

_What the hell does that mean?_ Stiles thought, flustered beyond all doubt. _Fake it. You’re in college; this is what you’ve been training for_ , he told himself. _Just for the love of god, don’t throw up and don’t pass out._

“Ah, well, you know,” Stiles shrugged, gesturing wildly with his hands and not even knowing what he was trying to say. “I…like. Ballet,” he said succinctly. Peter bit his lip just a little and his eyes crinkled in the corner like he was holding back a laugh. Stiles laughed nonchalantly, desperately trying to think of a way to get out of this train wreck.

“Look, the reason I wanted to catch you is that I was wondering,” Peter said, tilting his head to the side curiously. “Would you…perhaps want to get dinner sometime? Maybe tomorrow, after the show? There’s a lovely Italian restaurant a couple blocks down.”

“Like a date?!” Stiles shouted automatically, slapping his hand over his own mouth before he could think. “Oh god,” he murmured from behind his hand, horrified.

Peter grinned. “Exactly like a date,” he assured him. “If you’d like, that is,” he said, arching a brow in question.

“I…yeah…that’d be…oh god,” Stiles repeated, giving up and covering his face embarrassedly. “I swear I don’t usually get this tongue-tied,” Stiles muttered into his hands.

“You’re adorable,” Peter told him, and Stiles had to peek up at him to see if he was serious. Peter’s eyes read genuine as the man smiled at him.

“You’re a menace,” Stiles said without thinking and his eyes widened at his own audacity. He didn’t even _know_ this man, what was wrong with him?

Peter laughed out loud, stopping Stiles worried thoughts before they could truly begin. “Yes, I am definitely looking forward to getting to know you, Stiles,” he said. “How about tomorrow I’ll make sure a seat in the first row is reserved for you? Then we’ll head out just as soon as it’s over.”

_That sounds…_ ”Wonderful,” Stiles breathed, eyes glazed with the daydream of going on a date with Peter Hale, before letting out a short ‘meep’ when he realized he’d said that out loud. Peter chuckled again.

“So cute,” he said, so quietly that Stiles wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to have heard him. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Stiles nodded, probably too much, and then he had to consciously stop himself from nodding some more. He smiled. “Right, tomorrow. I’ll be there. Promise.”

“Goodnight, Stiles,” Peter said with a laugh, waving before turning to go back the way he’d came.

Stiles made it to his apartment on shaky legs, barely closing and locking the door before he slumped to the ground, knees giving out on him.

“Holy shit,” he breathed to himself in awe. “I have a date with Peter Hale.” Stiles covered his face with his shaky hands, smiling uncontrollably. He couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Send me a prompt on [tumblr](https://therapeutic-steter.tumblr.com/)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Plié](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13573908) by [HDHale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HDHale/pseuds/HDHale)




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